His Boy
by VoidOfMe
Summary: A series of one-shots, centered around moments of Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne's relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! We're back! Thanks for checking out the story, and we hope you enjoy! Feel free to check out our other fic "The Almost Mistletoe," where you'll sure be entertained! We wanted to take a more serious note on this one, and it showcases more of an Alfred story, so we hope you like it! This one was also written by my friend instead of me, so give him some love! Feel free to review, favorite, or PM us! Thanks!**

 ** _We do not own any of the characters used in this story unless specifically stated otherwise. All credit goes to the Gotham writers, directors, and cast._**

It was a calm night in Wayne Manor, the fire burning low and the smell of pine incense in the air. The butler, who was relatively new, as he had been only working at the manor for about three months now, was mulling over some business letters he was addressing for his charge when Thomas and Martha Wayne came into the study, with their newborn in tow.

Alfred looked up from his paperwork and smiled at the sight. He loved that child; he loved that child more than anyone would ever know. The little boy had brought so much into his life, without him even knowing it. He gave him a purpose, a reason to carry on, since his discharge of Her Majesty's service. The child he held so dear, a mere babe who could not even talk, had already changed his life in a great way. He would never forget that.

"Ahh yes, Master Wayne, Mrs. Wayne, how can I be of assistance," the butler cooed as he looked at the child. Martha Wayne smiled.

"That's actually the exact reason we wanted to talk to you," she cast a hesitant glance at her husband before continuing. "You see, Alfred. Bruce... He loves you very much, and it's obvious how much you love him. Seeing as how much of a part you will be of his raising, we figured-"

"We hoped, Martha means," her husband cut in, "that you would consider this offer."

"Why certainly sir, but, uh," the butler scratched the back of his neck, "what exactly is this offer that you speak of?"

"Oh! Right," Thomas chuckled lightly, "we wanted to ask you, if you would sign to become Bruce's legal guardian if something ever.. happened to us."

The butler stood there in front of the blazing fire, mouth agape. "Why.. Yes sir, that is quite a privilege, sir, but.. Why me? It's not that I do not want it, but isn't there someone who is more qualified for this. A nanny of some sorts, or a-"

"Alfred," Martha looked at the butler directly, "you are the only one who Bruce will even let get close to him other than Thomas or myself. We can both see the way you look at him. There's no other person we would rather have taking care of him."

"It is quite an honor to have been chosen. I only ask, may I have a day to sleep on it? I would like to consider this decision."

"Oh why yes, of course!" Thomas replied. "We understand how big of a decision this is."

"Thank you sir, madam."

"No. Thank, you, Alfred," Martha acknowledged. "We, are going to head off to bed. I think, however, we will let you put Bruce down tonight," Martha nodded, walking towards Alfred, handing him the waking child.

"It would be my pleasure," the butler said, taking the child into his arms.

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After the work was done and the desk clean, Alfred sat in the rocking chair in front of the fire with the sleeping newborn in his arms. He looked down and the child in his arms and smiled a genuine smile, one reaching fully to his eyes.

He sighed.

What was he going to do? A child? He can't raise a child can he? That is, if something were to happen to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, Queen forbid. How can he know? How can they know that he is the right one for the job? He's an old drunk, a bar fighter, a ruffian from the olden days. He has no business raising a child, let alone a Wayne. He has no right to even behold a child so heavenly, and he definitely cannot raise one.

The butler knew exactly what he had to do. He could not sign those papers tomorrow. The Waynes would just have to find someone more qualified for the position. He could never do that to the child he held so dear.

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 _He saw it. Alfred saw the flashing lights before he even got out of the drivers cab of the limousine. He got out and wished he could have immediately gotten back in and drove as far away from the scene as he possibly could have._

 _Yellow tape blurred with black uniforms, and red blurred with familiar faces. Alfred looked a couple of yards in front of him to see the dead bodies of Thomas and Martha Wayne, lying on the ground, but there was no Bruce._

 _"Bruce! Bruce!" Alfred yelled, not receiving an answer._

 _"Bruce, come boy!" Alfred was terrified now, his throat clenching and his heart wrenching. The child he loved so much, so desperately was gone._

 _"BRUCE!" Alfred blatantly screamed_ , _falling to his knees, tears blurring his vision. The child. His child. He was gone. The tears crashed down like the pour of a London rain. Not just any child. His child. Bruce. Bruce was gone._

 _What was he to do? There was no Thomas, no Martha, but especially no Bruce. The last thought hurt worse than the countless bullets he had taken. There was no Alfred without Bruce. Though he would never admit it to the boy, he could not live without him. The boy was a part of him, for good. How will he go on with a piece missing? How will he move from this low place on the ground he is rooted to? He can't breathe, he can't see. He can't even gather his thoughts. There is just numb, darkness all around. No escape from the-_

 _"Alfred! Alfred! Please Alfred!" a small, disheveled voice cries out. Alfred looks up to finally see a small figure run out of the darkness and barrel into him._

 _Bruce._

 _And the world is lifted from the shoulders of one British man, his vision gaining light. His life becoming manageable again. He wraps his arms around the frail frame and does not let go. Not for anyone, or anything. Nothing can separate him from this life line, the one thing connecting him to this earth._

 _"Bruce.. I.. I thought.. I didn't see you and.." Alfred managed to stutter out._

 _"I was with that detective over there. I don't remember his name," Bruce stutters, his voice weak and frightful. Alfred looks up to see a man, but his face blurred. He nods his thanks to him and the strange man nods back and heads back into the darkness._

 _"Let's go, Bruce," Alfred stands, but does not let go of the boy. He grabs his hand, a thing he has not done to the boy in six years, but the boy does not complain._

 _"Alfred.."_

 _"Yes, Master Bruce?"_

 _"Please.. Please don't leave me too.."_

 _"Never. I will never leave you Bruce," the butler replies, tears forming again. He ferociously wipes them away. Now is not the time. He can_ _mourn later. All that matters now is the boy; his own grievances can be forgotten temporarily. "Alright. Now, dry your tears, Master Bruce. We must carry on. We have a time for this, but it is most certainly not now."_

 _The boys just nods and the butler moves through the crowd of flashing cameras and greedy pens. The boy dries his tears, but no matter how many cameras flash, the butler does not let go of his hand, nor does the boy want him to._

 _The butler does something strange when they get to the car. He opens up the cab, and the boy does something even stranger- he climbs in the passenger seat. The butler climbs in the front and begins driving towards the manor, sneaking glances at the boy on the way home. Halfway through the drive, he feels a weight upon his arm and looks down to see a m_ ass _of_ _dark hair against his side. He feels a single tear fall down the side of the boys face and onto his arm, and then it comes flooding down._

 _How could he have made this different? He should have protected the boy. The darkness and anger he feels, and the sadness and bitter taste left upon his tongue make him sick. The boy is his. The boy is his now. And the butler, though mortified, could not be more glad that he signed those papers twelve years ago, because he could not bear the_ _thought of losing his boy_ _again._

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The butler woke with a start, the fireplace still burning, the boy still in his arms. Alfred looked down and the child. He loved this child so much, so desperately, that he could not even fathom what would happen if he ever lost him. In this moment, he knew exactly what he had to do. Tomorrow, he had to sign those papers. For Bruce's sake, and his, he would bear the responsibility of guardianship. He did not know if he would ever need to own up to this responsibility, but he would be damned if he let someone else take his boy away from him.

So the next morning, pen in hand and breakfast on the table, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth signed his full name there, initial there, and printed here, all for his boy.

He did not know that his boy would end up needing him.

He did not know that his boy would become the son of Gotham.

He did not know that his boy would become the masked vigilante of Gotham City.

He did not know that his boy would fall in love with a strange little girl.

But he did know, that if his boy needed him, he would be there. No matter what the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys.. It's G! I'm actually the one who will be writing on this story, instead of K. I wrote the first chapter, it was originally planned to be a one-shot about Alfred and Bruce, but I think I'm going to expand it to be a collection of one-shots centered around Alfred and Bruce, sometimes featuring other characters. Like this one, for instance. Let me know what you think! Feel free to review, favorite, and follow! PM us if you have any questions! Thank you!**

 **~G**

"Alfred, where is he?" Selina Kyle said, bursting through the doors of Edward Nygma's apartment. Hearing no response her question only be some for frantic. "Alfred. Where. Is he?"

The butler looked into her eyes, those deep emerald eyes that never let your soul linger, and he knew just how much the strange, heart-hardening, cat-like girl loved Bruce Wayne. The torment, the fear of losing the boy billionaire was so evident in her eyes that even the oblivious Wayne boy could have seen it if he had been there. And in that moment, he knew that the two would forever be entwined in each other, no matter how much meddling one butler could do.

It's funny, the butler thought, how ones so young could feel so deeply towards one another, though he remembered just who he was dealing with. This was Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. These were no run-of-the-mill teenagers who were temporarily transfixed by the scent of the other's perfume or cologne. These two children, are truly not children at all, adults trapped in children's bodies, forced to grow up too quickly by a cruel world. These children had experienced so much more than many adults would in their lifetime. So maybe, just maybe, that's why Alfred Pennyworth let the girl stay around, and maybe, just maybe, that's why he did what he did next.

"I don't know, Ms. Kyle. But we will find him."

Selina Kyle stopped in her tracks. She expected the butler to be snarky or rude, especially in the given circumstance.

The two locked eyes, and for a long moment the room was silent, two wills clashing against each other in the form of grey and blue. They saw each other. Both of them, connected through their one mutual link - Bruce. They both love the boy with a passion that is only rivaled by each other's. They see a common goal, and they see a common link. The girl sees the butler, gun in his hand ready to kill for the boy. The butler sees the girl, small and agile, but nonetheless ready to fight. They recognize each other's presence. They understand each other, and each one slackens their gaze. Maybe, Alfred thinks, he was wrong about the girl. But that's another topic for another time; right now, they need to find Bruce, and they need to save him. The weight of the air in the room is lightened when the two nod, and everyone visibly relaxes.

"Right.. Um.. Anyway," Detective Jim Gordon continued, clearing his throat, "Galavan has Bruce, it's just a matter of where. We know he is somewhere underground in the city's catacombs, but we don't know where exactly. We're going to have to split up if we want to have any chance of finding Bruce." Everyone nodded in approval.

"How are we going to know if anyone found him?" Selina asked.

"Easy," Detective Harvey Bullock answered, smirking, "Listen for the sound of gunshots." Selina nodded shakily, but did not show any sign of backing down.

"Alright. Let's go," Alfred said, eager to get to Bruce. That bastard is going to pay for what he's done. If he has laid a hand on that boy, Alfred swears to the heavens above he will put a bullet through every muscle in that man's body. That's his boy they are missing with.

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"I'll go with Ms. Kyle," the butler mumbles to a shocked group of people.

"Alright old man, I'll call your bluff," Selina walks towards Alfred and stands next to him confidently. "Try not to be scared when we go through the dark."

Alfred rolls his eyes.

"Well. Okay then," Jim chuckled awkwardly, "Alright, I'll take Bullock. Ed and Penguin can go together, and that looks like that everyone... We'll meet back here after we get through our search."

The groups split, and soon it was just the girl and the butler, and a long far corridor.

"So...," the girl awkwardly makes conversation, "how's.. Butlering going?"

The butler quirks a smile "Oh it's going quite well, actually. Other than the cheeky little boy who continually gets himself into trouble."

Selina laughs. "I've been chasing this kid for two years now. You ain't got nothin' on me."

"Nothing?" The butler gapes, "I've been raising that boy for fourteen years! You, ahem, "ain't got nothin'", as you say, Ms. Kyle, on me," the butler replies sarcastically. He takes this opportunity, though, to delve into an earlier topic. "So, you've been chasing Master Bruce for two years, Ms. Kyle?"

"I-I, uh-h.." Selina stutters.

"Hmm?"

"I um. The kid has needed some guidance and since I saw his parents.. Death, I figured since-"

"Ms. Kyle. Master Bruce, albeit he not liking my saying, is very much, as they say, "head over heels" in love with you. Now. Bruce does not let people in, nor does he love people, unless he truly cares about them. I advice you to not jump sides, because this is my boy you're dealing with Ms. Kyle. He's quite fond of you," the butler sighs and stops, looking Selina in the eye with the intensity of before, "please. Do not break him any further. He has already had enough.."

The butler breaks eye contact and looks down. Selina blushes and they continue walking forward.

"Bruce is.." Selina starts. The butler stops again and looks at her. "Bruce is different than anyone else I've ever known... And he just... I just.. I-"

They are interrupted by a round of gun shots and both of their heads shoot toward the direction.

"They found him!" Alfred yells. But he was too late; Selina had already taken off in the direction of the sound.

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Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth was out of breath from chasing the girl through the catacombs towards the sounds of gunfire, but he lost whatever he had left in his lungs when he finally stumbled upon the scene. Scores of priest-like people, all dressed in black. There were probably twenty of those damned robed lunatics to every one of them. And in the middle of the fray, Selina Kyle was making her way towards a white robed boy, who was tied to a center pedestal.

"Damn that bloody girl!" Alfred spit out, running towards her. She didn't even have a vest on, damnit. He had already made a silent commitment to himself as he was running back in the catacombs. He was to protect Selina Kyle, like she was Bruce Wayne. That girl - that damn, bloody girl - was the only thing Bruce Wayne had left in this world, other than him, of course. He was not going to let another human being be ripped away from that child.

The butler shot, as he ran into the fray of black robes and gunshots.

"Alfred, look out!" He heard and turned just in time to see one of those bloody mongrels, presumed to be dead, but apparently not, coming towards him from behind. He did not have time to react as a small black knife slipped it's way into the self-proclaimed monk's neck. He turned back around to see Selina Kyle in a high spot, crouched on a shelf like a cat, ready to pounce.

He nodded, albeit awkwardly. What does one do in this situation? "Thank you, Ms. Kyle." Selina nodded, and the continued on their way, working up to the center where Bruce was, fighting together.

In those five minutes, Selina Kyle gained a certain amount of respect from Alfred Pennyworth, as did the butler to the the cat. The two worked like a well-oiled machine, both set towards the common goal of getting Bruce Wayne back home.

And when the last shot was fired, and Jim Gordon finally had Theo Galavan, the two took a breath, and the little girl fell into the butler.

Alfred looked down at the girl for a moment, but did not say anything, nor did he move. It took her exactly thirty-three seconds to stand back up; the same number of men she had killed. Alfred had counted. He just nodded and they, yet again, met eyes with a silent understanding.

"Alfred! Selina!" Bruce Wayne ran towards the two, and crashed into Alfred in an inescapable embrace. Alfred did not let go, like he promised on that dreary night two years ago. After thirty-three seconds - Alfred had counted - Bruce let go of Alfred, and collected himself.

"Thank you, Selina. You didn't.. You didn't have to come," the boy billionaire blushed, but did not turn away. Instead, he looked at the girl with admiration and longing. It was a look so full of emotion, Selina had to look away.

"Don't mention it kid.. Just.. Next time make sure you get kidnapped by someone with a slightly bigger army, kay? This was too easy."

Bruce smiled, at that.

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As the three walked out, Bruce cleared his throat.

"Thank you two, but I had a perfectly feasibly escape plan," the boy billionaire rattled off.

Bruce Wayne was surprised, to say the least, when the butler and the cat-girl looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and ignored him.

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"So. What were you saying about Master Bruce?" Alfred cheekily asked the girl when they were far enough away from Bruce.

"I hate you. I hate you so much, old man."

Alfred smiled.

"Where's the car?" Bruce whined.

"Well you see, sir. I had to park it all the way back at the police station when we came to save your little bum. But, if you have another plan, you can begin walking to the manor if you would like," the butler replied with a satisfied smile.

Selina Kyle smirked and turned left into an alleyway, leaving the two boys to themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back, and better than ever (hopefully)! I haven't updated this collection in a bit, so I wanted to. Kinda helps fill the void in my heart while Gotham is on hiatus. As always, please feel free to review, favorite, follow, or PM us! Thank you!**

 **~G**

"No! Nooo!"

Alfred bolts up out of bed, jarred awake by the sound of Bruce's screams throughout the house. The butler sprinted to the boys room, throwing open the door when he arrived. What lie in front of him broke his heart.

There was Bruce Wayne, taking turns between being curled up in a tight ball and thrashing about, whimpering and screaming while the covers were being strewn all over his quarters. Alfred walked to his bedside and took a moment to say a silent prayer. He hoped his parents, wherever they may be, did not have to witness this. He could barely handle the torment this caused his heart, let alone his parents.

He shook the boy and cradled him. "Shh. Shh, it's okay. It's okay now. I've got you, it's okay," Alfred rocked Bruce back and forth. "Shh, it's okay. Hush now, it's okay." He laid his cheek against the top of the boys head and continued cradling him.

"I.. I just.. I can't do it anymore," Bruce whispered, a far away look in his eye. The broken look in his eye was more than Alfred could bear. "They.. They're gone. They're really gone. They aren't coming back. They never are. They left me here alone. I'm all alone," he sobbed out.

Alfred had to turn away. The boy didn't realize. He was not alone in this. He had him, for Queen's sake. He would never let Bruce see it, but Alfred was deeply hurt by those words. Nevertheless, Alfred had a job to do at the moment.

"Shh. It's okay.. You'll be okay. I'm here now. It's all okay," he tried consoling the boy, but nothing seemed to be working.

"I just. Don't know what to do anymore," Bruce cried out.

 _You and I, both, my boy. You and I both._

But the butler would never say that out loud, either so he bit his tongue. Bruce buried his head into Alfred's chest and sobbed himself to sleep in an hour. Alfred, however, did not get a wink of sleep that night.

And the sun rose to a new day, leaving the darkness to dwindle in the past.

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"Would you like to talk about it, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, regarding last night's.. Incident.

"No." Bruce answered deadpan, spoonful of oatmeal an inch from his face. Alfred sighed.

"Very well, Master Bruce. I'll be here if you need me."

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched upwards, but he refused himself a smile.

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Alfred lay awake, staring into the darkness - Bruce does not consider him his. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about it; he is Bruce's butler. That is all he is. He is no father, no parent. All he is, is Bruce's butler. He'll never be more. Bruce won't look up to him, he won't look to him for advice, and he won't love him.

In one fowl blow, Alfred was instantaneously broken. He would never let it show to Bruce though, that would be a catastrophe. He may be Bruce's legal guardian, but he will never be his real guardian.

"Mom! Dad!"

Alfred was startled by the screams again. He sighed, and got out of bed, trudging the long journey from his quarters to Bruce's. It looks like another sleepless night.

The door was cracked open, so Alfred peeked in before entering. There was Bruce Wayne, doing the same alternating pattern of the fetal position and thrashing all about. He opened the door and stepped in, saying another silent man. He found himself praying more often than he used to. Maybe it was a sign.

He wrapped Bruce up, and shushed him, just like the night before. "It's okay Bruce. It's okay, I'm here. It's just a dream, it's all going to be okay."

Bruce jolted up and looked up to see him. He had a wild look in his eye, but it all vanished when he locked eyes with the butler.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"I. I don't. Make it stop.. Please make it stop," the boy sobbed out, yet again. Alfred sighed and pet the boy's hair.

Bruce fell asleep soon thereafter, but Alfred, yet again, did not get the sleep he needed.

The sun again rose, leaving the darkness of last night behind them.

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Alfred yawned as he handed Bruce his breakfast.

"Good morning, Master Bruce."

"Good morning, Alfred." Bruce ate his toast.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Bruce hesitated. "No.." Alfred sighed, but nodded.

"Well then, I'll be here if you need me."

And Bruce smiled.

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On the third night, everyone - all two residents - in the Wayne Manor lay awake, restlessly.

Alfred had conjured up an extra blanket and some pillows, and ended up in the study. That way, if Bruce needed him, he would be closer.

He sighed when he heard the terrified screaming, as his instincts were again correct.

One night, he was fine; two nights, he could handle; but three nights of no sleep was going to put a dent in the weary butler's mental stability. He forced himself out of his comfort and headed toward the sound.

He arrived at the room in record time, and entered to the same sight for the third night in a row. Bruce was in the middle of one of his thrashing bouts, so - after saying another prayer - Alfred fought the boy's flailing arms and wrapped him with his own.

"Shh. Shh it's okay," Alfred said, cradling the boy. He put his head on top of Bruce's and began humming softly. "It's alright now. No need to be afraid."

Bruce woke up, but his eyes were not wild. His eyes found Alfred's and they visibly relaxed. His whole body went limp in peace.

"Alfred.. I knew you would come." Alfred had to keep himself from grinning at an inappropriate time, but could not stop himself. He was beaming.

"Always, Master Bruce. I will always be here."

And for the first time in a long time, both Bruce and Alfred fell asleep.

The final morning, the sun rose, but it was met with closed eyes and happy hearts - for the darkness of the night before had been vanquished already.

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That morning at breakfast, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter for the butler as he handed his young charge his breakfast.

"Anything you would like to get off your chest, Master Bruce?" The butler inquired, mindlessly. He didn't expect an answer.

Bruce paused. "Yes, actually." Alfred nearly dropped the plate he was holding.

"I would be happy to listen," he said as he sat across from Bruce.

"When. When I introduce you to people, I'm going to introduce you as my guardian." Alfred sucked in a breath to keep from saying anything. "You're just not my butler anymore. You're much more than that.." Bruce smiled shyly. "I just.. Thought you should know."

Alfred smiled, one that reached all the way to his eyes and crinkled the sides of his face. "I would be honored."

"Thank you, Alfred."

With those three words, Bruce Wayne turned the butler's world from a pastel canvas to a vibrant hue in a matter of seconds.

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Alfred slept in the room next to Bruce's quarters that night, but no screams were heard. About half past one, he went into his room to check on him and discovered Bruce lying sound asleep. He smiled and pulled up a chair next to the boy's - no, his boy's - bed and laid his head on the edge, watching over him.

Alfred watched the sun rise with a smile on his face, and kept an eye on the last Wayne; the one he now held so dear. He would never let anything happen to this boy.

 _He was his guardian, you know._

 **A/N: So there we have it! Feel free to check out our other stories and send in request. No guarantees about writing, but we would love to hear your ideas! Thank you!**

 **~G**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been** **a bit, but here's the new update! It was inspired by a friend. As always, feel free to review, follow, favorite, PM us, or check out our other stories! Thank you and I hope you enjoy! P.S. I have a question for you guys. Would you like shorter stories with quicker updates, like 1k word(ish) stories, or would you like longer stories with a more sporadic, further apart updates 1.5k+ word stories? The short ones would be about this length- I'm experimenting with this chapter for length. I would appreciate your comments and opinions! Thanks guys! ~ G**

Alfred didn't know how important the little things were - opening the door, holding the umbrella, cooking him lunch. Just the boys presence filled him with so much indescribable joy, a warmth that rivals that of the Sahara. He had no idea how important the boy was to him until he was gone.

Alfred sat outside the school, staring bleakly at the walls and halls that separated him and his charge. He never knew that the boy could have so much of an effect on him. These past few weeks since the death of the Waynes, bless them, it was just the two of them, no one else. The butler had gotten used to it, quite honestly. He felt.. empty, in a way.

Bruce had become just as much of a part of his existence as he had Bruce's. They depended upon each other, the two. They counted on one another to be there in the times of weakness when the dark became too much. Queen knows that's happened more than once in the previous weeks, and it will surely happen again. Neither of them were over it, although - Alfred supposed - they never will be. It's not something you just.. Get over.

The butler's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bell ringing, and the courtyard filling up with rowdy teenagers. He sighed - this was not the place for Bruce. After about five minutes of waiting patiently, Bruce came out through the courtyard and entered the side of the limousine, silently refusing Alfred's help. The butler understood. It was Bruce's first day, and he did not want to make the wrong impression. Or so Alfred thought, at least. That's how it was when he was in primary. Oh what a time.

"Good day, Master Bruce?"

Bruce remained silent, staring out the window.

"Bruce?"

"They made fun of them," he said quietly.

"What was that, Master Bruce?"

"They made fun of them, Alfred," Bruce turned to look him in the eyes. "They made fun of mom and dad being dead," And the boy had had enough for one day. He broke, throwing himself onto the butler.

Alfred gritted his teeth and held the crying boy in his arms. They had messed with his boy. He would not stand for this. He drove back to the Manor with one arm, the other being wrapped around the now silent young billionaire.

He would make short work of this horrid, childish behavior.

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"Where are we going?" Bruce asked as Alfred ushered him into the limousine.

"You'll find out," Alfred replied covertly, and drove back into town.

It was a twenty minute drive to the child's house - Jeremy Blackwell, Alfred had found out. When they arrived, Bruce stepped out of the car, wondering what was going on.

"Alfred, what are we doing here?"

Alfred pulled out a golden watch, and eyed it tentatively. He carefully placed it into Bruce's small hands.

"This is your father's watch," Alfred said, and Bruce immediately developed a newfound attitude toward the relic. "Don't you lose it, now. Because, you're going to use it to go beat that shit-talking kid's face in."

Bruce stood, mouth agape, as Alfred pushed him towards the door, and stood next to the car, holding the umbrella. He had done all he could; this was Bruce's fight now. Bruce walked toward the door, and looked back at Alfred hesitantly. Alfred nodded, Bruce rang the doorbell, and Alfred held his breath.

The door opened, revealing an ogre of a boy. Alfred was quite surprised that he had managed to get such a reaction out of Bruce; he figured rye boy would handle himself better, but the butler had no room to talk. He had not just had his parents ripped away five weeks prior.

Alfred could not understand what was being said, but from the beating Bruce gave the boy, he's sure it didn't matter. Bruce would not have any trouble from now on, Alfred was sure of it. He walked up to Bruce, and put his hand on his shoulder - enough was enough. Bruce immediately straightened up, and collected himself.

Alfred stared down the boy, Jeremy he assumed, and covered Bruce with the umbrella as it began a slight drizzle.

"What would you like for dinner, Master Bruce?"

"I think I would like pizza."

"Pizza! An excellent choice, Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaimed in mock excitement, overdoing everything he could in front of the ogre of a boy.

He looked down and the fallen boy. "Good day, sir." He placed his hand upon Bruce's shoulder and the two headed back towards the car. Alfred opened the door for Bruce, and then entered the vehicle himself, throwing the umbrella in the back.

"Where to now, Master Bruce?"

"Lenny's, my butler," Bruce said.

"Right away sir," Alfred grinned, still continuing their ruse for Bruce's sake. The both smiled at each other as they left the ogre-boy in the mirror and headed towards the Italian restaurant.

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.

"I'm proud of you," Alfred said on the drive back home. Bruce looked up from his pizza, already two slices deep in the fresh, homemade goodness, and smiled a sly smile. It disappeared in an instant, and if Alfred hadn't been looking - he would have missed it. They sat in silent for a few minutes.

"I learned from the best," Bruce said quietly. Alfred grinned so brightly that the stars in the sky could see it. Bruce handed Alfred a slice of pizza as he drove, and Alfred was thrilled.

The pizza was good, but it was not as good as the feeling in Alfred's heart. Bruce Wayne felt the same way Alfred did. He was important to his boy, and he would be for a long time.

His heart swelled at the thought.

"You know what goes well with pizza?" Bruce asked, a smile blossoming on his face.

"And what would that be, Master Bruce?"

"Ice cream," Bruce grinned.

Alfred sighed, rolled his eyes, but still turned the car around, a smile forming just barely against the edges of his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay so hey guys! I'm so sorry about the wait on this one. It's been a LONG couple of weeks, but I ended up getting to meet BOTH David Mazouz and Sean Pertwee yesterday, so it gave me a little bit of juice to write this small chapter. Hopefully I can get back to a regular update schedule for this and my other story Agony soon! Feel free to review, favorite, follow, or PM us!**

 **Story note: This was prompted by a reader submission from LyricalMedley. I've been think of doing a chapter just like this, but when they suggested it I decided it would be a fun one to write. Thank you!**

 **~G**

Alfred was determined to never let the boy see him upset. Bruce was dealing with enough as it was; the last thing he needed was for his only rock in this world to not be steadfast. So, the butler did not think one bit about wiping the corner of his eye when Bruce walked in the kitchen, or holding the bottle of whiskey behind his back when Bruce had wandered into his room on one of his sleepless nights. He hadn't bothered knocking because he knew Alfred was awake - neither of them slept anymore.

The truth was, Thomas and Martha meant so much to Alfred Pennyworth. The two had taken him in during a hard time in the butler's life. When he was honorably discharged from the Queen's service and his father had passed away, the Waynes extended both arms forward to welcome him into their home, their family. He helped them raise their son, who had also become his boy, and took guardianship over him if something ever happened. They were his family; they were all he had left.

Needless to say, the passing of the pair was not easy for Alfred, but he would never let Bruce know how badly he was wounded by the loss. Alfred was all Bruce had left in this world, and he had to be adamant. Breaking was not an option, until the day Bruce slipped into the kitchen unnoticed, that is.

.

.

.

The ex-special forces turned butler was doing just as he always did every night at precisely eight o'three. He was washing the dishes.

Alfred sighed. It had been a taxing day - the Waynes' funeral bills had just come in and Bruce had caught him sifting through them before he could get it back to his office. Well, Thomas Wayne's old office; it's where he handled all the financial business. It was either that or the kitchen table, and Bruce did not need to see just how much the butler spent on bourbon. It had been a long three weeks.

The soapy water splashed Alfred's face and caught his attention away from his thoughts. He wiped his hand across his face to clear his eyes slowly sunk his elbows onto the counter, holding his head in his hands.

How was he to do this? Raise a child all alone. He figured couldn't do it, but there was no bloody way in hell he'd let some child protective services goon get their hands on Bruce Wayne. He missed the Waynes. He missed them greatly.

The butler's shoulders sagged and soon began to shake, taken by silent sobs he hid behind his prim and proper attitude.

God he needed a drink.

But his sobs continued, drowned out by the sound of the tellybox in the main room and the running of the faucet. He never cried, he hadn't actually cried in years - not since his father passed.

It was a messy bout, one that raged and tore into the deepest part of Alfred Pennyworth. The sobs wracked his whole body, all the pent up rage and sadness he had hid for three weeks blowing up in one giant fit that was caged in silence. He bit his fist and stamped his foot and for a moment was taken back to first grade where he would throw tantrums like this until his father would come along and say "now Alfred, this is no way a gentlemen acts," but unlike those this fit was far from voluntary. He was so caught up in his turmoil that he did not notice the boy that slipped in the door and was now watching in the background.

Bruce observed silently from afar, but when the butler's convulsions caused him to nearly cut his hand open on a knife in the sink he decided to make his presence known.

"Alfred, are you okay?" Bruce said taking a step forward. Alfred flinched, and turned around not knowing the boy had been standing there.

"Why, I'm fine Master Bruce," he sniffed, wiping at his nose, "can I help you with anything?"

Bruce stared at him intensely. It was not unusual that the word intense came up when describing Bruce Wayne, but the butler knew he was in a hopeless battle.

"Alright.." Alfred sighed, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Bruce said quietly. "Are you alright, Alfred?"

"Oh yes, nothing to worry about Master B. Just some personal things going on, I'll be okay," the butler smiled very convincingly, he had thought.

"Alright," Bruce kept his gaze on Alfred and walked up next to him, grabbing a hand towel and beginning to dry the dishes Alfred had set aside in the clean pile.

"No, you don't have to Master Bruce, it's not a-"

"I want to," Bruce broke from his usual hardened expression and offered a small smile, hoping for something - anything - in return from the butler other than a hollow message of "I'm okay, thank you for asking," or "don't worry about me, Master Bruce." He had finally understood the gravity Alfred's grief.

Though unknown to the butler, Bruce did know about all the bottles of bourbon he had been buying. Bruce did know about every single time Alfred vigorously wiped away a tear or two for the sake of saving a face. The boy really did care about the butler; he was all he had left, so he made an offer of what he felt like was a mediator. It gave Alfred a hand with the cleaning and it gave Bruce an opportunity to study the butler more closely.

Alfred nodded and turned back to his duties. He did find it a nice gesture, though he would never let Bruce do that if there were guests.

The duo stood and washed and dried the dishes for thirty minutes in a comfortable silence, not bothering to add words where they were unnecessary. Alfred appreciated the company, and Bruce appreciated the opportunity to delve into the butler's deeper, thoughtful side - even though by now Bruce had already determined Alfred Pennyworth was a deeper individual than Mt. Everest was high.

As they finished up and Alfred hit the kitchen light switch, leaving it in favor of the study now that the dishes were done, Bruce paused and looked up at the butler.

"You don't have to hide it. They were your family too, you know," the boy said blatantly and turned his back to go to his map board where he had begun to pin all of the clues that led to the murderer of his parents.

Alfred stood for a moment and blinked away a few stray tears, not believing that his ruse had been seen past so easily. Now that Bruce was preoccupied he could go back to his room for a drink, but instead of leaving sat down and glanced at the files on the table ahead of him. He stared at the files, and then up at the boy, and then back at the files, and so on. This child, he thought, is going to be the death of me.

He smiled regardless and picked up a file, glancing through it. This time it was Bruce's turn to stare as Alfred, eyes crinkled in concentration, picked up a photo and tacked it into the map board at a certain location Bruce wasn't quite sure of.

Bruce gaped. "You don't have to do this! You can go back to your room or business or whatever and-"

"I want to, Bruce," the butler smiled at him as he picked up another file.

Bruce smiled back at him and picked up a file and begun reading his newest one. They had made a silent contract with their eyes, worth more than a thousand words ever would be. They were in this together now; they would take care of each other. The littlest Wayne did not fail to notice, either, that for the first time since he was four, his butler called him by his name.

That night, both the butler and the boy fell asleep on the couch, with nothing but peace in their hearts.


End file.
